


He Can't Swim!

by o_rcrist



Series: Durin's Line [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mentions of medical care, cursing, no gore though, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_rcrist/pseuds/o_rcrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What should be a simple return trip to Erebor quickly turns into a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to write the next chapter of Think Before You Speak, but this popped into my head instead. 
> 
> This takes place a decade into Thorin and Bilbo's marriage.

Thorin growled as he and Bilbo departed Thranduil's palace. Arrogant pompous ass. Thorin was more than happy to turn his back to it and return home to Erebor. Of course Bilbo had enjoyed the visit, but then again Bilbo was on much better terms with the elves. Thranduil seemed to have forgiven Bilbo for his part in the escape from the dungeons, but Thranduil still loved to make jabs at Thorin for it. Ass.

“Relax Thorin,” Bilbo ordered with a smile. “We'll be home in three days.”

“Not soon enough.” Bilbo rolled his eyes at him. Thorin chose to ignore him and keep ranting. “I don't see why he insisted on having the negotiations here this year. Erebor is much more comfortable.”

“Because they've been held in Erebor for the past decade love. It's time that we granted him this small favor.”

Thorin grumbled again under his breath. “To many trees and not enough stone. It's not right, walking across tree roots. “

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “You survived. And for once I didn't have to save us from a political nightmare. I would count that as an excellent negotiation.”

“I told you I would behave.”

“You promise me that every year. This is the first year you've actually done it.”

With all the grace of a King, Thorin stuck out his tongue at his husband, which earned him an acorn to the face. “See _that right there_ is why you and Thranduil can never have a decent conversation! Two hundred year old dwarf and a centuries old elf. One would think you'd be able to behave, but no, instead you both turn into tweens.”

The guards accompanying them laughed, ignoring the glare they received from their King. Traitors. They all loved Bilbo's weekly snacks, and if asked, were almost guaranteed to take his side in a conversation. They weren't about to risk losing the best cooking on this side of the Misty Mountains.

The banter continued for a hour as they slowly made their way along the river path. The old path had been overrun by the forrest and was no longer safe to take. Not to mention it also let out in the middle of a nasty swamp, which Bilbo had refused to trek through. “Those mosquitos will eat me alive!”

Bilbo and Thorin were at the head of the party, slowing their ponies down as they heard horses approaching. Which could only mean one thing. “Elves,” Thorin groaned. “What do they want now?”

Two of their guards took a protective stance in front of them as the horses came into view. They slowed as they approached the group, dismounting before their mounts had even stopped.

“What has you in such a rush?” Belric demanded, his hand on his sword hilt.

“Orcs are in the area.”

The guards immediately clustered around Bilbo and Thorin, their eyes scanning the surrounding forest for any sign of enemies.

Thorin drew Orcrist from its sheath. “How are they still here? Thranduil does not allow orc filth to leave his realm alive.”

“They took a company of ours by surprise,” the elf explained. “Slaughtered half of them before they could fight back. They barely made it back to the Water Gates. The orcs are heading this way and will be upon on us soon. You should go back to the Palace, you'll be safe there.”

All of the dwarves bristled at the suggestion. “We don't run from orcs,” Belric growled out. “We fight and send them to the pits of hell.”

“These are not normal orcs,” the elf hissed. “They travel in sunlight.”

Bilbo looked to Thorin. “How isn't that normal?”

“Sunlight weakens them,” He quickly explained. “They only travel out in sunlight if they are desperate.”

“What could have them desperate enough to travel then?”

Before Thorin could answer, Belric did it for him. “We don't want to find out. We ambush them and kill them. That simple. The only good orc is a _dead_ orc.” The rest of the guards growled in agreement, drawing their weapons, ready to protect their King and Consort.

Thorin looked to Bilbo, who was staring right back at him. “Don't even think about it,” his hobbit warned him.

“Bilbo please....”

“No,” Bilbo said dangerously. “We stay together. I've fought by your side and I vowed to always stand by it.”

Thorin let out a deep breath, but nodded in reluctant agreement. “The mithril shirt?” he asked lowly.

In response Bilbo tugged his collar down, briefly showing Thorin the glittering mail underneath.

“Thank Mahal.”

“Take positions along the outside of the path,” the elf instructed. “We'll be in the trees above you. Don't attack until they're right in front of you. Some might escape. Careful of the rocks next to the river. They tend to get slippery.”

The dwarves grumbled again at being given orders, but got into place as instructed, two of the guards leading the ponies off into the forest so they wouldn't give the others away. Thorin and Bilbo crouched down low on the riverside, weapons in hand. It only took a matter of minutes before they heard the Orcs. They were yelling in their foul language, not even worried about keeping their presence a secret. They were soon visible on the path and Thorin put a hand on Bilbo's back to steady them both. Thorin had a strong vendetta against all orcs, more so than the average dwarf on account of how much pain they had caused him and his family. Bilbo had no love for them either, having only recently learned how the boys father had died. He had an ice cold hatred for them that not even the sun could hope to thaw. Thorin had learned to control his rage years ago, but Bilbo had no such experience.

“Wait,” Thorin reminded him in a low whisper. “Wait.”

Bilbo took a deep breath and nodded, his grip tightening on Sting.

These Orcs were ugly, most likely from the Misty Mountains. They shuffled along, their swords reflecting in the sunlight, fresh blood staining them. Thorin understood none of their Black Speech, but they were clearly looking for something. Thorin didn't understand. The majority of the orcs had been slaughtered at The Battle of Five Armies a decade ago. The few who had survived had fled back to the mountains. A few small parties had been seen over the years, all of them quickly taken care of. But for them to travel through Mirkwood in broad daylight? Something wasn't right.

The last orc finally came into view, Thorin getting ready to fight as it lumbered past him.

“Du Bekar!” He roared as he jumped out, easily decapitating the last orc before it could even blink. Arrows flew from the trees above them as the elves took down any that tried to escape. The orcs outnumbered them by at least a dozen, but they were no match for dwarves with fire in their hearts.

“Kill them all!” Thorin yelled as he dueled with another orc. “They cannot escape!”

He could hear Bilbo fighting behind him, dangerously taunting an orc. “Come now, my mother can fight better than that!”

“Don't antagonize them Bilbo!”

He could practically hear the roll of Bilbo's eyes as he finished off the orc and turned to check on Bilbo. He was fighting an orc nearly twice his size, but was easily dodging every swing of its blade.

Bilbo lunged forward, forcing Sting through the orcs chest with a sickening sound. Bilbo jumped away, leaving Sting imbedded in the orc. Both of them watched as the orc looked down, almost surprised that Bilbo had managed to injure him. Thorin never released his grip on Orcrist, tensing as the orc slowly pulled Sting from his chest and threw it to the side with a roar. The creature only had minutes left, if even that. The orc looked up, locking it's hateful eyes on Bilbo.

Without warning he charged Bilbo, grabbing him by the throat and dangling him over the river.

“Release him!” Thorin ordered, holding Orcrist to the orcs throat.

“Kill me and he dies,” the Orc gurgled with a smile, blood dripping from his mouth.

“You have minutes left to live,” Thorin replied. “Release him now and I will ease your passing into the next world!”

The orc looked to Bilbo, who was uselessly kicking and clawing at him. He turned back to Thorin and smiled evilly. “I hope he knows how to swim.” With a laugh, he let go and Bilbo plummeted into the raging river.

“No!”

Thorin ran the orc through the heart with Orcrist, not even pausing to check if it was dead. He was already throwing his heavy coat off and his weapons to the ground. He ran along the river side, desperately trying to keep Bilbo in view as he struggled to stay above the water in the churning rapids.

“You cannot go after him!” One of the elves shouted from the trees. “The water will drag you down!”

Thorin ignored him and kept running. “Bilbo! Keep kicking!” He had no idea if Bilbo could even hear him, but he didn't stop yelling. The river was slowing down slightly, but Thorin wasn't going to take that as a good sign. He felt his heart stop as Bilbo slammed into a rock and then another. The river was relentless and cruel, having no mercy for those who ventured into it. Bilbo slammed into another rock, but managed to hold onto it somehow.

“Hold on Bilbo! I'm coming!” Thorin dove into the water, swimming as fast as he could against the current to Bilbo. It was no easy task and he was an excellent swimmer by dwarven standards. For Bilbo this would be almost impossible to survive. “Hold on!”

The river slammed him into a rock, but he shoved off of it to reach Bilbo. He got behind Bilbo and latched onto the rock, holding them both in place. “I've got you Bilbo. Can you climb up onto the rock? You need to be out of this water.”

Bilbo was shaking under him but he nodded. He slowly raised his arms, struggling to find a grip and pull himself up. He found one, but as soon as he tried to raise himself up he let out a piercing cry and fell back down.

“Can't....my wrist....I think it's broken.”

Thorin nodded, tightening his grip on the rock. “What else hurts?”

“My...my ribs.”

Thorin felt his heart clench. They were most likely broken. Bilbo wouldn't be able to swim to safety, even with Thorin's help.

“Okay. We'll get out of here.”

“How?” Bilbo asked, his breath hitching as a surge of water hit them, forcing them against the rock for a moment before Thorin pushed against the rock, giving Bilbo the space he needed.

Thorin looked around, having no clue as to how to get Bilbo to safety. He couldn't lift Bilbo up onto the rocks himself, he would be swept away by the current if he didn't keep his hold on the rock. With a broken wrist and most likely ribs, Bilbo was severely limited in his range of movements. “I don't know,” Thorin answered. “But I'll figure something out.” Bilbo nodded, closing his eyes as a wave of pain overtook him. “Just keep breathing Bilbo. Light even breaths. Keep your wrist in the water if you can. It'll keep the swelling down. I'll hold you in place.” Bilbo nodded again, carefully lowering his broken wrist into the water, his other hand had a grip on the rock so tight that his knuckles were pure white.

Thorin had no idea where the others were, but he had to hope they would be here soon. He saw no feasible way to get them both to safety. He would need their help and he needed it soon. It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes before he thought he heard something. He brushed it off but he heard something again. Closer.

“Thorin!” He looked up at the call of his name, having barely heard it over the roaring river. Belric was waving at him, a coil of rope in his hand. “Catch!”

“Hold on Bilbo!” Bilbo grabbed onto him as Thorin let go of the rock, the current instantly taking them away. He had no idea how, but he managed to grab ahold of the rope that Belric had thrown to him. Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo, pulling him close to his chest.

With a hard jerk the rope hit it's limit, Thorin having to hold on with all his strength so it didn't slip from his fingers. Slowly, the dwarves on the shore pulled them in. As soon as Thorin felt the ground beneath his feet, he stood up, pulling Bilbo up into his arms as he trudged out of the river.

“You're safe Bilbo,” Thorin murmured. “You're safe.”

Bilbo nodded again, shaking in Thorin's arms, his face a shade above pure white.

“Get the healer!” Thorin yelled to no one in particular as Bilbo began to cough up water. He quickly got down, forcing Bilbo onto his hands and knees as he continued to cough up water. “Now!”

Bilbo kept hacking, forcing all of the water he had inhaled from his lungs out. Thorin rubbed his back soothingly as Bilbo cried out in agony as the hacking jarred his ribs. “Light breaths Bilbo. Light shallow breaths. It's the only way to make it stop.”

Garin rushed up to them, one of Oin's many apprentices. “Get him up.”

Thorin carefully eased Bilbo into a sitting position, supporting his hobbit from behind. The healers eyes quickly scanned over Bilbo, taking in his broken wrist, the cuts on both his hands, his soaked clothes and pale face. He gently felt Bilbo's wrist, frowning slightly. “Clean break, but I'll have to set it and soon or we risk letting it heal wrong. What else hurts laddie?”

Normally Thorin would snort in laughter at a dwarf calling his husband laddie, especially a dwarf that was by their standards younger than Bilbo. This time though, he didn't think twice about it.

“My chest,” Bilbo replied with a groan. “The rocks.....slammed into them.”

Garin methodically unbuttoned Bilbo's vest and shirt, frowning again as he found himself staring at the mithril vest. “This has to come off before I can check his ribs.” He looked at Thorin and added, “This is going to hurt.”

Thorin nodded and together they carefully worked off his outer shirts. Bilbo whimpered when he tried to raise his arms so they could remove the mithril shirt, Thorin waving off Garin for a moment. “Relax,” Thorin murmured. “Just relax. We'll wait until you're ready.”

Bilbo took a few steadying breaths, leaning back into Thorin's touch. “Please don't. It hurts.”

“We have to Bilbo, it's the only way we can help you.”

Bilbo let out a shuddering breath as a wave of pain hit him again. “I just want a warm bed right now.”

“I promise that you'll have one as soon as I can manage it.”

Bilbo nodded, knowing Thorin would never break a promise to him. He was quiet for a few more minutes, before he told Thorin he was ready.

It took Garin and Thorin mere seconds to get the vest off, but to Bilbo it felt like an eternity. Garin let out a low whistle as he finally saw Bilbo's chest, the majority of it already black and blue, red scrapes showing where the mithril had been forced into his skin when he hit the rocks. He carefully put his hand on Bilbo's chest, feeling around for the breaks. He easily found them and thankfully they felt clean. If they had pierced a lung, Bilbo would have already been coughing up blood.

“He needs rest and time to heal. He can't travel like this, not even by wagon.”

The elves who had remained silent through all of this approached. “Come back to the palace with us. You will be safe and Master Baggins will be able to recover in comfort.”

Thorin bristled at the veiled accusation but said nothing in return to them. “Get me a blanket.”

Another one of the guards pulled a blanket from the ponies packs, handing it to Thorin, who carefully wrapped Bilbo up in it. He scooped Bilbo back up into his arms, holding him securely. “Lead the way.”

The elves turned without another word, quickly leading them through the forest and back the way they had come.

“Thank you,” Bilbo wheezed out, his voice barely above a whisper. He was still shaking, but Thorin couldn't tell if it was from shock or the cold. Or both.

“For what?” he asked quietly, not wanting the others to hear them.

“For saving me.”

Thorin smiled softly, gently rubbing his nose against Bilbo's. “You've saved me more times than I can count. I owe you everything.”

A small smile worked it's way onto Bilbo's face, but before he could say anything else, he was overtaken by violent shivers.

“Easy Bilbo,” Thorin gently urged him. “Just focus on me for now. You'll have a warm bed soon.”

With a small nod, Bilbo closed his eyes, but Thorin knew he wasn't asleep.

Finally the doors to the Woodland Palace came into view and it took Thorin everything he had not to run across the bridge. Bilbo was hurting, cold, and wet. He needed to change all of that as soon as possible.

“I was not expecting you to return so soon.” Of course Thranduil had decided to meet them at the doors.

“Neither was I.” Thorin retorted, his grip tightening on Bilbo.

Thranduil's eyes swept over Bilbo. “Have the rooms stocked with warm blankets and make sure the healers have access to anything they might need. I will see no harm come to Master Baggins.”

Thorin hated the idea of accepting help from Thranduil, but for Bilbo he would do anything. He looked up at Thranduil and nodded his head in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Thranduil looked down at him, the arrogant look back on his face. “I do not do this for you. I do it for the hobbit who has come to be a dear friend of the elves.”

Thorin all but growled. “Either way, I offer you my thanks. If there is one thing my husband has taught me, it is good manners.”

Without waiting for a reply, Thorin walked past him and up into the rooms they had vacated only hours before. Elves opened the door for him and he went to deposit Bilbo on the bed. He carefully unwrapped the blanket from around Bilbo and stripped his hobbit of the remainder of his soaked clothing. Garin gently lifted Bilbo's broken wrist up, setting it on a pillow as before he helped Thorin redress Bilbo in warm clothes. Blankets were warming by the fire, Belric taking one and giving it to Thorin so he could swaddle Bilbo's lower half with it. Then Thorin had no choice but to stand aside as Garin gently cleaned Bilbo's chest of blood, applying a salve to keep any infection away and to reduce the bruises. Once he was done he wrapped Bilbo's chest, binding his ribs in soft cloths. He eased Bilbo back when he finished and stepped back to talk to Thorin.

“His wrist still needs to be set. I'm going to give him something to dull the pain, but he'll still feel some of it. If we're lucky the medicine will knock him out before I have to set it.”

Thorin nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“You and Belric will have to hold him in place while I set it. The less he moves, the better.”

He nodded again, waving Belric over from the fire. “Give him the medicine.”

Garin dug the vial out of his bag, uncorking it and holding it to Bilbo's lips. “Bottoms up laddie.” His hobbit dutifully swallowed it, making a face of pure disgust once he was done with it.

“That is the foulest thing I have ever tasted,” Bilbo stammered out. “Why can't Oin ever find a way to make them taste better than an orcs sock?”

Garin shrugged. “Don't ask me. Now relax and give that a few minutes to kick in. We can't wait much longer to set your wrist. Bone starts to knit back together in a matter of hours.”

Bilbo made another face, but settled back into the pillows as best as he could. Thorin brushed his husbands curls out of his face, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Bilbo's head. Bilbo let out a soft breath, closing his eyes slowly. “Send a Raven to Erebor,” he quietly told Thorin. “Tell the boys we're not going to be home for a while.”

Thorin nodded. “As soon as we're done here, I'll send one out.”

Bilbo made a noise of agreement, hissing when he accidentally breathed in to much. His face scrunched as he let out a low whine. Thorin quietly murmured to him, doing his best to soothe his husband and relax him. Several minutes later, Garin returned to them and nodded to Thorin. “Let's get this over with.”

Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo's forehead. “Where do you need me?”

“Hold his front half down,” Garin instructed. “Put your arms on his shoulders and be sure to have a grip on his good arm. Belric, hold down his legs. He's going to kick something fierce.”

They wordlessly got into place, tensing for what they knew was coming.

“I'll do this quick,” Garin assured them, carefully lifting Bilbo's wrist up. “On three...One.....Two...” Garin didn't wait for three, resetting the bone with a few quick movements that had Bilbo thrashing against the two dwarrows holding him down. With one last sickening sound, the bone popped into place, and Garin set Bilbo's wrist back down, but didn't release it. Bilbo was breathing heavily, still struggling to escape the grip the dwarves had on him.

“Keep breathing laddie,” Garin instructed. “The worst is over. Keep breathing and relax.”

Bilbo glared at him. “The next person who tells me to relax isn't getting fed for a _month_.”

Garin rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say Bilbo, but unless you _relax_ , you risk your muscles tensing and pulling the bone out of place.”

“ _Two_ _months_ ,” Bilbo seethed.

The healer groaned. “Thorin...”

The dwarf king released his own hold on Bilbo, taking his husbands face in his hands and smiling at him. “Please love, just take deep breaths. Garin can't stabilize your wrist until he's certain your bones won't move out of place.”

Bilbo glared at him in return, but Thorin could see that his words had finally gotten through to his husband. Bilbo was slowing his breaths, closing his eyes against the waves of pain he was still experiencing. It took a while, but Garin finally deemed Bilbo relaxed enough for him to release Bilbo's wrist and gather what he needed to stabilize it.

He carefully splinted Bilbos wrist and arm, leaving his swollen fingers free and only a portion of his forearm. Leaving it resting on the pillow, he grabbed more pillows and stuffed them under Bilbo's knees to prop them up. “Now don't move,” Garin instructed. “You need anything, you _ask_. I don't want you out of this bed for at least two days.”

Bilbo nodded, his surge of adrenaline long gone and the medicine beginning to pull him under. Thorin got two of the blankets warming by the fire, removing the one he'd placed on Bilbo earlier and replacing it with the warmed ones. Bilbo made a noise of contentment, snuggling deeper into the warm cocoon he was now in. Thorin smiled softly and he watched his husband slip into a deep sleep.

“Send a Raven to Erebor,” Thorin quietly instructed Belric. “Let them know we will be here for as long as Bilbo needs to be, but that he's safe. Warn them not to let Frodo know what really happened.”

Belric nodded, departing swiftly. Thorin dismissed the rest of the guards, ordering them to rest and recover from their eventful morning.

Garin was sitting in a corner, cleaning and taking an inventory of his supplies.

“Go to sleep Thorin,” he ordered the King. “Get out of those clothes and get in bed next to your husband. You need to warm up and rest just as much as he does.”

Thorin glared at him.

“Don't make me bring the guards back here and force you into that bed. You know I'll do it.”

Thorin doubled his glare, but gave in. The healers of Erebor were the only word that ranked above his. What they said was law and in all honestly, Thorin knew better than to disregard their advice. He tossed his wet clothes next to the fire, pulling fresh clothes out of the packs lying against the wall. Once he finished, he grabbed another one of the blankets, dragging it with him as he trudged to the bed.

“Stop pouting.”

“Is their an off button for your running commentary?”

“No.”

Thorin threw a pillow at Garin as he got into bed next to Bilbo, doing his best not to jar Bilbo in his sleep. He pulled the warm blanket over him, happily closing his eyes as he all but sank into the heavenly warmth it was emitting.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin didn't want to wake up. He was warm and the bed was unbelievably comfortable. He grumbled as he wrapped the blankets tighter around himself, burying himself deeper into them. Just a few more minutes maybe. It was a rare occurrence for him to wake up on his own. Usually Frodo woke both of his Uncles by jumping into bed with them, jumping around until one of them pinned him down and told him to stop acting like a jack rabbit.

He shuffled around a bit more, wiping at his eyes, wincing slightly when a small cough came from the person lying next to him. Everything came rushing back like an avalanche and Thorin shot up in bed, frantically looking around for his husband.

Bilbo was lying next to him, still bundled up in the blankets Thorin had wrapped Bilbo up in....hours ago? Days? With the way his head felt, it certainly could have been days for all he knew. Bilbo let out another little cough, fidgeting a bit before he settled back down in his sleep. Thorin carefully put the back of his hand to Bilbo's forehead, his brow creasing with worry at the heat he felt.

He looked around the room and found Garin snoring away on one of the many couches in the room. “Garin?” he whispered.

The healer snorted in his sleep.

“Garin.” he said a little louder.

This time he let out a fart. Mahal save him.

Thorin grabbed one of the smaller pillows and chucked it at the oblivious healer. It whacked him right in the face, Garin flailing about as he tried to defend himself from a non-existent enemy before he fell off the couch with a thud.

Thorin smirked while Garin glared at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“You didn't want to get up.”

“And you couldn't just _get_ out of bed and wake me like a decent dwarf?”

“My head hurts.”

“I'm about to make it hurt more.”

“That's treason.”

“Not when you're a healer.” Garin continued to glare at Thorin as he stood up, stretching his back until the bones popped back into place. “Now what's so urgent that you felt the need to wake me up in the laziest way possible?”

“Quiet! Bilbo's still sleeping.”

Garin put his face in his hands. “Now I know why Oin makes all of us do this.”

“Do what?”

“Never you mind. Now answer me: What's so urgent?”

Thorin gestured to Bilbo. “His head feels warm.”

Garin quietly walked over and placed the back of his hand to Bilbo's forehead. He frowned slightly as he pulled his hand away, but didn't seem overly worried.

“Is he okay?”

Garin shrugged as he rearranged Bilbo's blankets and pillows. “To early to tell right now. The fever was to be expected. After the dip in the river and sustaining injuries, it's a bodies natural reaction to run a slight fever. He'll have it for the next few days most likely.”

Thorin rubbed at his head, his headache only growing. “Will it get worse?”

Garin shrugged again as he carefully picked up Bilbo's broken wrist. “To early to tell. I'd like to think it won't, since we got him warmed up and his injuries taken care of relatively quickly. He's being kept warm and relaxed, so fingers crossed he won't develop pneumonia.”

Bilbo coughed again and Garin's frown increased. “I don't like the sound of that cough, but it's not a wet one. Let's hope a small cold is the farthest this goes.”

Thorin nodded as he rubbed at his head again. “He got a cold the last time we came down the river.”

“If this gets worse, then we'll cross that bridge when we reach it.” Garin gently put Bilbo's wrist back down, making sure it was securely cradled by pillows. “He's going to have to wear a sling when he wakes up. He'll be less likely to jostle it about.” Garin looked at him. “What's wrong with your head?”

Thorin groaned. “It's just a headache. I probably just need a glass of water.”

Garin quickly came over to Thorin's side of the bed. “I'll be the judge of that.” He moved Thorin's hands away, replacing them with his own as he carefully felt around Thorin's skull. A few minutes later he let out a deep breath as his search came away clean for any serious injury. “You've got a bit of an egg on the back of your head, but I gather that's from when you got slammed into that rock.”

Thorin nodded, raising his hands to feel for himself, but Garin swatted his hands away and put a mug of water in them instead. Thorin blinked at the mug. When had Garin gotten that?

“Drink that. It'll help clear your head. If it keeps hurting then I can give you something for the pain.”

Thorin drained the cup in three gulps, wordlessly holding it out for Garin to refill for him. “Slower this time.”

Thorin obliged, taking a few minutes to drink the water, letting it slowly clear his muddled mind and reduce his headache by a fraction.

Watching Bilbo in his sleep, something occurred to him. “Shouldn't Bilbo be awake by now?”

“Let him sleep for now. You've both slept the day away and I'm about to have the servants bring up food for you both.” Translation: Unless you want to deal with your cranky, hungry, hobbit husband, let him sleep.

Thorin cracked a smile, settling back into the pillows behind him. “Have we received a reply from Erebor yet?”

Garin shook his head as he checked the blankets lying by the fire. “Not that I've heard but that's to be expected. It's nearly dusk and the Ravens hate flying into Mirkwood. No doubt they'll refuse to fly back out until the sun has risen.” Garin checked on Bilbo once again before he departed.

Thorin rubbed at his head again, thinking of all the ways his nephews could be taking this news. If Frodo found out about this, it would be disastrous. The faunt still had a deep set fear of losing his Uncle Bilbo and if he found out just how close he'd been to, no less by the raging river....Thorin shuddered to think of how Frodo would react. He and Bilbo would have to come up with a different explanation as to why Bilbo was injured.

“Stop worrying,” a sleepy voice told him.

Thorin looked at Bilbo, giving him a soft smile as he brushed some errant colors from Bilbo's eyes. “I'm supposed to worry. And you're supposed to be sleeping.”

Bilbo yawned, his good hand clutching at his chest when he breathed in to much. “'m hungry.”

“Garin's already ordered food up for the two of us. It should be here soon.”

“Excellent.” Bilbo carefully pushed himself up with his good hand, sitting himself up better so that he could recline next to Thorin. The dwarf shuffled over a bit, wrapping his arm around Bilbo's shoulders and kissing his husbands curls. Bilbo did his best to snuggle closer to Thorin, but was limited by all the pillows Garin had surrounding him. Once he found a comfortable spot, he closed his eyes and leaned into Thorin's chest. “Wha' are you worrying about?”

“Our nephews. Especially Frodo.”

Bilbo nodded into Thorin's chest, the fingers encompassed in the splint flexing reflexively. “What did you 'ell Fili and Kili?”

“Belric sent the message for me. They were told what happened and that we'll be here for as long as we need to be. I asked them not to tell Frodo what really happened.”

“You're worried he'll take the news badly,” Bilbo murmured.

Thorin nodded in agreement. “Aye. The poor lad lost his parents by drowning. I don't want to think how he would take the news of you almost drowning. As far as I'm concerned, he never has to know the truth.”

“You want us to lie about this?”

“I want us to protect him,” Thorin countered. “He's only fifteen Bilbo. He still has nightmares about losing his parents. Finding out about this will only make it worse.”

Bilbo twitched his fingers again. “But how can we hide _this_? I've got a broken wrist, broken ribs, cuts all over my chest. We can't just return to Erebor and pretend nothing happened.”

“We can't hide your injuries but we can hide the circumstances at least. We can be honest about the ambush. He's heard more than enough stories and he does deserve to know that part. I believe he can handle that. But we won't mention the river part.”

Bilbo let out another cough, groaning as the movement jarred his ribs. “I don' like lying to Frodo. Or asking the lads to lie for us. It doesn't seem right. We've always been open with him about everything.”

Thorin hugged Bilbo closer to him. “I don't like it anymore than you do, but I think it's for the best. If you don't then we'll find another way.”

Bilbo thought for a few moments, before he sighed in defeat. “I don't like it, but I have to agree it's for the best. Have you heard anything back from Erebor?”

Thorin shook his head. “No, but I would expect an answer by sometime tomorrow.”

Bilbo's stomach grumbled, his hobbit making a face of displeasure. “Where's the food? 'm starving. How long did we sleep?”

“Most of the day according to Garin. Be patient, I'm sure it will be here soon.”

Bilbo made a scandalized face. “'Most of the day'?! That means we missed second breakfast, elevensies, lunch-”

“Afternoon tea and supper,” Thorin finished for him. “I know. But dinner is on it's way up. You'll be full soon enough.” Thorin chose to ignore the glare Bilbo was giving him at being interrupted.

They relaxed in silence for a few minutes, Bilbo's eyes slowly closing as he began to drift off to sleep again. Thorin took another sip of water, his headache still refusing to depart.

“Are you okay?” Bilbo quietly asked.

Thorin absently fiddled with Bilbo's marriage braid. “I'm perfectly fine. Why?” Bilbo shuffled about a bit, wincing as the movement jarred his ribs and wrist. “Lie still Bilbo,” Thorin murmured. “You'll hurt yourself.”

Bilbo settled back down, lying as much as he could on Thorin's chest. “I saw you slam into the rock.”

Thorin smiled at him softly, cradling Bilbo's face in his free hand. “I'm _fine_ ,” he emphasized. “Dwarven bones are sturdy. All I've got is a headache.”

Bilbo nodded and coughed, his uninjured hand once again clutching at his ribs. Thorin winced at the dry hacking noise, but counted his blessings that their was no blood coming up. “Easy,” Thorin gently instructed.

Bilbo hacked again. “Blasted cough.” He coughed again. “Stupid dip in the river.” Another cough.

Not liking where this was going, Thorin sat up, lifting Bilbo up with him. His hobbit leaned heavily on him as Bilbo continued to hack. “Handker-” Cough. “Chief.”

Thorin grabbed up the blanket he was wrapped it and handed it to Bilbo, who kept coughing into it. Small sounds of pain kept escaping his mouth, as he clutched at his ribs and tried to curl in on himself. Thorin pulled Bilbo into his lap, trying to keep him upright and soothe him before he hurt himself further. “GARIN!”

Seconds later the healer ran into the room, Belric not far behind him. Garin grabbed a vial, uncorking it and all but shoving it under Bilbo's nose. “Breath it in laddie. It'll help stop the coughing.” Bilbo did his best to breathe in the smell coming from the vial, but he still couldn't stop coughing. Garin swore and put the vial in Thorin's hand, running back to his supplies. He pulled out some herbs and threw them in a bowl, mashing them together before he added water into the mix. Coming back with the bowl, Garin scooped out some of the paste and smeared on Bilbo's chest. “Keep breathing it in Bilbo. Small breaths.”

It took several long, tense minutes, but Bilbo's coughs finally ceased and he slumped into Thorin, absolutely exhausted. Garin checked Bilbo's forehead, frowning at the hobbit's elevated fever. “Food, medicine, and rest are what you need right now Bilbo.”

Bilbo hacked again in response and sniffled. “Wha's wrong?”

“You've got a cold laddie.”

Bilbo groaned. “No' again.”

Belric frowned as two elves entered the room, steaming platters of food in their hands. He jerked his head towards the table, silently dismissing them. They shot him rude looks, but otherwise said nothing as they departed. Belric gave them a very rude gesture as they shut the door behind them.

“Behave 'elric!” Bilbo scolded as he blew his nose into the handkerchief Garin handed him.

“Any news from Erebor?” Thorin asked.

Belric shook his head in response. “Nothing.” He inspected the food the elves had brought, grimacing at all of the green food. No meat to be found. What a waste of a meal. At least Bilbo was guaranteed to like it. He picked up one of the bowls of stew and a half of loaf of bread, bringing them over to Bilbo, who gratefully accepted them.

Thorin made a face as he saw the lack of meats and miserably looked at Belric. “No meat?”

Belric shook his head as he retrieved another bowl of stew and handed it to Thorin. “Sorry Your Majesty.”

Thorin made a face as he to began to eat. “I swear he's doing this on purpose.”

Bilbo decided that arguing with Thorin about Thranduil was not going to make him feel any better, so he ignored his husband and continued to enjoy his food.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Erebor was quiet as the ponies slowly walked in, most of the inhabitants within the great fortress still sound asleep in their beds. The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountain and Thorin had never been more exhausted in all his life as they entered the Front Gates. Bilbo was sitting in front of him, even more exhausted than Thorin, his entire body tense with pain. Balin was standing there waiting for them, smiling softly to them as he approached.

“It's good to see you two again,” he said quietly as he took the reins from Thorin.

Thorin grunted in reply as he dismounted, carefully helping Bilbo down from the pony. Bilbo could barely stand on his own, Thorin taking all of his weight as he held poor Bilbo up. His husbands body was still tense, his breathing labored and raspy. Bilbo been awake for over two days, unable to sleep while riding the pony, but unwilling to stop to end his torment.

Balin waved a guard over, handing the reins to him as he watched his friends with no small amount of concern. “Why have you returned so soon?” His ever watchful eyes were firmly set on Bilbo. “You should not be riding a pony in your state. You shouldn't even be traveling.”

Bilbo took a deep breath as he turned into Thorin's chest, his arms shaking as he wrapped his good one around Thorin, his injured one still safely in a sling. “I needed to be home,” Bilbo replied stiffly.

“You're hurting Bilbo. Severely by the way you are standing.”

Bilbo ignored his friend, burying his face in Thorin's chest instead. “Home,” he whimpered so quietly that Thorin just managed to hear it. Thorin rubbed Bilbo's back gently, carefully stooping to lift Bilbo up into his arms. Bilbo went without argument, to tired and hurting to much to really even think about it.

Garin and Belric followed behind Thorin, quietly walking with Balin.

“Why have you returned so soon?” Balin demanded to know, giving Belric a hard look.

Belric gestured towards the pair in front of them. “Bilbo. He was determined to come home. Thranduil kept insulting Thorin and Erebor, insinuating that we would not have been able to care for him here.” Balin seethed at that statement, but held his tongue.

“Bilbo can tolerate Thranduil even on his worst days, but he pushed Bilbo past his limit. Thranduil came in once when he thought Bilbo was asleep and he had the nerve to insult Thorin and the boys. All his boys. That was the final straw.”

Garin nodded in agreement with Belric. “He also said something about it being easier for hobbits to heal when they are with their families. Their entire families. He's a clever one. Played to all three of our weaknesses to get him here.”

Balin's anger faded for a moment, smiling slightly at the reminder of how easily Bilbo could manipulate others if he needed to. “Did you not stop in Dale?”

They both shook their heads. “Bilbo didn't want to stop. He said that if we did he would never be able to get on the ponies again. He begged us to just continue on and get 'this nightmare over with.' Fairly certain he all but broke his poor husbands heart at that.”

Balin gave Garin a stern look. “You never should have allowed this.”

“I agree, but he was determined.” Garin looked down at his feet for a moment, his eyes filled with concern when he looked back up. “I tried to convince him, but he would not be swayed. He was hurting terribly. I did my best with pain tonics, but traveling by pony is not easy even when one is in the best of health.”

They paused in their discussion as Belric went forward to open the door for Thorin. The exhausted dwarf walked over to their oversized bed, carefully setting Bilbo down on it and beginning to strip Bilbo of his traveling clothes. Balin paused as he entered their room, ordering one of the guards to fetch Oin as he closed the door. The guard took off and Garin gave Balin a dirty look. “What? Am I not good enough?”

Balin gave him a dirty look in return. “Has Oin taught you no manners?”

“Manners are for when the sun is up or Bilbo is in a baking mood. Neither of those apply right now.”

Balin rolled his eyes and swatted Garin over the head. “Mind your manners lad. You're still an apprentice.”

Garin rubbed at his head. “We'll see about that,” he grumbled under his breath, shooting Balin another dirty look.

“Quiet,” Thorin hissed over his shoulder, tossing Bilbo's dirty clothes into a corner and ducking into their massive closet. He emerged a few moments later with a pair of Bilbo's sleep pants and one of his own oversized tunics.

Garin went forward, carefully helping Thorin dress Bilbo in the clean clothes. It took several minutes, more than one noise of pain escaping Bilbo's lips during the process. Garin was concerned for Bilbo's ribs, gently examining them and pressing on them lightly. Bilbo hissed and tried to squirm away, but Garin was more than aware of Bilbo's tricks by now. He felt around for a few more moments, letting out a sigh of relief when he found that Bilbo's ribs had suffered no further damage.

He stepped away, allowing Thorin to sit beside Bilbo on the bed, running his fingers through Bilbo's hair soothingly.

“What can I do?” Thorin asked him softly, his eyes filled with worry.

Bilbo tried to smile back, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Sleep. Beside me. You're exhausted.”

Thorin shook his head in disbelief. “No more than you Bilbo. I'll rest soon.”

Bilbo tugged on Thorin's sleeve, making a petulant face. “Sleep. Now.”

“I need to check on the boys first,” Thorin reminded him. “They're worried.”

Bilbo closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to will his muscles to relax. “They're still asleep. They never rise earlier than they have to.”

Thorin started to reply, but Oin bustled into the room and unceremoniously pushed Thorin out of his way. Garin came over, motioning for Thorin to go over and talk to Balin. At least Oin hadn't broken Garin of all of his manners yet.

Thorin reluctantly took the hint, dropping into an armchair beside Balin. “The boys?” he asked quietly.

“Asleep for the time being,” Balin answered. “But they've spent their days worried. Fili and Kili have to hide their concerns to protect young Frodo, but you can still see it in their eyes.”

Thorin gave Balin a worried look. “Does Frodo suspect anything?”

Balin nodded. “He's a clever lad. He knows that he's not being told the truth, but I think he's to afraid to ask, out of his fear of losing his Uncle.” Balin sat down in the armchair opposite Thorin, fidgeting with his beard as he watched his cousin. “Do you plan on telling the lad?”

Thorin shook his head. “No. Bilbo and I both agree it's for the best.”

“He will know that you are lying to him,” Balin pointed out.

“I know, but if he finds out what happened? After what happened to his poor parents? We fear what his reaction might be. If I had not been able to get to Bilbo, he would have lost him. I can't tell him that. Not with Bilbo still hurting and injured. Maybe someday, when Bilbo thinks it is best, but not today, not tomorrow, not this year.” Thorin put his face in his hands. “He will know about the orc attack, we cannot hide that, but he will hear absolutely _nothing_ about the river.”

Balin looked troubled. “Bilbo has never once lied to Frodo. I have a hard time believing he agrees with this.”

Thorin nodded in agreement. “He didn't want to, but he agrees that it's whats best for Frodo.” He took a deep breath, worried for his youngest nephew. “Where is Frodo right now?”

“He spent last night with Dís. Kili and Fili have been busy until late in the evening since your letter, so Dís has been minding him for the time being. You know how much she loves him.”

“So he's being spoiled rotten right now?”

Balin shrugged. “You know how she is with the lads. She tries to keep him smiling, make sure he goes to his lessons. Keep him distracted.”

Thorin nodded. “And Fili and Kili? How are they?”

Balin slumped further into his seat, looking decades older than he was. “Exhausted. Working themselves until they practically fall asleep at their desks. They've never had to deal with almost losing Bilbo. They've always known that they might lose their dwarven family to violence. A lesson they learned far to young.” Balin shook his head sadly. “But they _always_ believed that Bilbo was safe. That he was immune to that. This attack has shaken them. Fili won't even talk to Dwalin about it. He just shuts himself away.”

Thorin's worry increased ten-fold. Fili rarely refused to talk to Dwalin. He talked to Dwalin about things he would not even talk to his own brother about. He would have to talk to all of his nephews during the day, make them talk if they refused to.

Thorin chose to start with the easiest. “I'm going to get Frodo. He needs to be with Bilbo and Bilbo needs to be with him.” He started to get up, but Balin was faster, gently pushing him back down into his chair. “Stay with Bilbo. You're to tired to be navigating these halls with a faunt in your arms. I'll bring him to you.” He gave Thorin a soft smile. “Change out of your travel clothes and rest. No one will bother you until lunch, though I can't promise your other two nephews will not arrive soon.”

Thorin let out a soft laugh. “The sooner, the better.”

Balin swiftly departed, softly closing the door behind him. Thorin looked to Bilbo, who looked to be half-asleep while Oin looked over him. Thorin gently rubbed Bilbo's furry feet as he walked past their bed, giving him a private smile as he passed. He easily found clean sleep clothes, dropping his dirty clothes into a pile on the floor and kicking them aside.

Garin was gently rewrapping Bilbo's broken wrist when he came back. It had swollen during their riding, paining Bilbo greatly during their journey. It was a temporary measure to relieve the pain; Garin would rewrap it once again when the swelling went down. Oin was standing nearby, his eyes flicking between his apprentice and Bilbo. Oin seemed satisfied though, as he did not move to interfere, which was a rare instance.

Thorin sat at the end of the bed, once again gently massaging Bilbo's feet. Bilbo let out a low noise, opening his eyes briefly to once again smile at Thorin. He wriggled his toes a bit, making a happy noise as Thorin carefully pulled Bilbo's feet into his lap.

“Oin?” he asked quietly. “Anything to be concerned about?”

Oin shook his head. “No. Garin has done an excellent job. So long as Bilbo _stays in bed_ , he will be fine.”

“Go lecture your apprentices,” Bilbo grumbled, his eyes still closed.

Oin gave Bilbo a stern glare. “I'll lecture you all I want when you make foolish decisions.”

“Oin,” Thorin said softly. Oin looked to him and Thorin shook his head. “Leave him be.”

Oin harrumphed, but let the matter go. Garin finished wrapping Bilbo's wrist, carefully setting it back it the sling safely and lying it upon a soft pillow. He tidied up his things, throwing them all in his bag and looking to Oin. He gave his apprentice a small nod, silently dismissing him. Thorin couldn't help but smirk as Garin all but ran from the mood.

As the door closed Oin smiled. “He's done a good job. Lads earned his mastery through this.”  
“I'm so happy Bilbo's near death experience has made you happy,” Thorin replied sarcastically.

Oin swatted Thorin upside the head. “You know what I mean. He's one of my best and I'm glad he was with you.”

“So am I.”

Their was a soft knock on the door, followed by it opening, revealing Balin carrying a half-asleep Frodo. Balin held up his hand, indicating for Thorin to stay where he was, instead bringing Frodo to Thorin, who happily took his youngest nephew into his arms. Frodo grumbled a bit, but tightly wrapped his arms around his Uncle. “I missed you,” he said quietly.

Thorin smiled as he hugged his nephew. “I missed you to mizimith.”

Oin and Balin looked on the family fondly before they quietly departed.

“Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo quietly asked, his voice small and shaking.

Thorin rubbed Frodo's back shifting slightly so that they were facing Bilbo fully. “He's right here. Safe and sound.”

Frodo looked at his hobbity Uncle, worry all over his face. “He's hurt.”

Thorin nodded. “Aye, he is. But he's okay now. We will tell you the story later, but for now Bilbo needs to rest.”

He got up, gently depositing Frodo in the center of the bed, the faunt immediately snuggling up next to Bilbo. Thorin smiled as he got into bed beside Frodo, his two Uncles creating a barrier to the world for him. Bilbo opened his eyes as he felt Frodo snuggle up against him, shifting slightly so that he could wrap his good arm around his nephew. It only took a matter of seconds for both hobbits to fall asleep, Thorin wrapping his arm around the both of them. His eyes slowly drifted shut and within minutes the family was deep asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp this will run more chapter than I thought. Trying to do all the reunions and family time in one chapter would make it run far to long. At least ten pages. So I will have Fili and Kili in the last and final chapter.


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